Life is full of surprises
by The raving loony
Summary: It just another of those days when Kitt and Michael's lives get turned around
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I far as I can tell Glen Larson owns everything Knight Rider. I don't. But I do own Jessica. Just so you know.  
  
The small midnight black Trans-Am cruised down the highway as though it owned the road itself. However Kitt didn't actually feel that way. He was exhausted from the continuous journey and both his axles ached from the hilly terrain.  
On the other hand his partner, Michael Knight, was quite happy. All he had to do all day was sit back, relax and listen to music because Kitt was the only one who actually knew where they were going.  
'Oh for crying out loud!' thought Kitt as they came to another junction, 'How far away is this place?' He did some quick map checks and turned right, heading towards another band of hills.  
He wasn't actually sure why Devon wanted them to go so deep into the Nevada desert. There was a lot of sand and the occasional mountainous bit there and some cracked and ill used roads, most of which were little more than dirt tracks. With lots of potholes.  
Kitt groaned as his front left rim smashed into a hole, banging one of the newly fitted perceptors.  
'I wish I hadn't let Bonnie install these' the AI thought miserably. It was OK being able to feel the roads (when there were no potholes involved) but currently the perceptors were a bit too sensitive and if someone even put their hand on his roof, it was agony. And it hurt to drive for long periods of time, which was why his axles were throbbing.  
The car sailed over the brow of a hill and slammed on the brakes. Kitt gave a sigh of relief and spoke quietly to Michael,  
"I think we have reached our destination." The tall man glanced out the windscreen and nodded,  
"OK, buddy. Let me take over and get a visual on this would you?" The Trans-Am coasted to a stop beside the big black super bike on the side of the road and Michael got out and walked over to its apparent owner who was sitting on a rock, typing on a laptop. 


	2. The insurance

Disclaimer: I far as I can tell Glen Larson owns everything Knight Rider. I don't. But I do own Jessica. Just so you know.  
  
Michael had barely reached the person on the rock before they held out several sheets of paper and said,  
  
"Sign the one at the start."  
  
He took the papers and glanced over it and asked,  
  
"What's this for and where do you want it signed?"  
  
The person looked up from their laptop and glared at Michael,  
  
"These are insurance forms, OK?" said the person, who Michael had now identified as a woman,  
  
"They're to prove that if you die or get seriously injured while being in my presence that you were near me through your own free will. If you don't trust me you can read the entire contract which is at least a hundred pages long and needs to be signed three times on every page, or you can take my word for it and sign somewhere on that page. It doesn't matter where, it's just one signature that I need."  
  
"OK..." muttered Michael and hesitantly signed it and handed it back.  
  
"Ta" the girl said and stood up, holding out her hand, "I'm Jessica Dalzell, I know Devon and then he knows me and believe you me, we're going to need each other's help. Sorry if this is a touch rushed but I'm currently extremely worried and really need to get into a sheltered area, preferably my own home, and check that no one's trying to kill me."  
  
Michael nodded and shook hands with her. He could now see Jessica was bordering thirty but probably still in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a three quarter length leather coat, black jeans, black trainers and a black t-shirt. There was no doubt about the fact she was pretty, long chocolate brown hair that turned ginger and occasionally blonde as the light hit it and chocolate brown eyes that had a worried but confident feel about them, as if she was troubled about something but had a good idea how to deal with it.  
  
In other words, pretty didn't do justice. The word would be stunning.  
  
"Come on," she said stowing her laptop under the seat of her super bike and brought out a helmet – black, of course – and gestured at the road.  
  
Michael nodded again. It seemed the best way to talk to this girl was not to talk at all but just to nod and agree. Disagreeing probably wasn't the best idea since Michael had caught a glimpse of a hefty revolver underneath her leather coat as she had swept by. Now she was sitting on the bike, engine rumbling, waiting for Michael to get a move on.  
  
Obviously Kitt detected her impatience because he started the engine and rolled forward to Michael and slid the door open. Jessica raised an eyebrow behind her helmet visor; this was going to be interesting.  
  
As soon as Michael shut the door, she sped off, doing a wheelie to keep her speed down enough so he could catch up. And sure enough Kitt and Michael darted off too, flying down the roads after the bike as though someone were chasing them.  
  
They didn't know there was. 


	3. The Chase and a Meeting

Disclaimer: I far as I can tell Glen Larson owns everything Knight Rider. I don't. But I do own Jessica. Just so you know.  
  
As they tore headlong down the road Kitt began to feel nervous. There was something there: just outside his scanner range – he could just tell. Or maybe it was more than one thing... Whatever it or they were, they seemed intent on staying close to but not too close as to attract attention.  
  
Ahead, Jessica weaved to avoid a series of deep potholes. Michael, however, didn't know of Kitt's slight predicament and, taking that the suspension would absorb the impacts, drove straight over them. Kitt gasped in pain and as the overly sensitive perceptors sent jolts of electricity straight through his CPU, accidentally shut the engine down.  
  
"What the..." said Michael, firing the engine again and swerving this time to dodge another pothole,  
  
"Buddy, are you OK?"  
  
Kitt made no effort whatsoever to reply verbally; instead he flicked on a screen and wrote up:  
  
I'm alright. Don't worry, just keep away from the potholes – please.  
  
Michael shook his head, grimaced and then winced as the Trans-Am bounced through another hole. Now Jessica glanced back towards them and, after staring worriedly at them through her visor, made some very urgent hand gestures for them to speed up. And sure enough once Michael took at fleeting look at the rear-view mirror, there were three big Ford Mustangs snarling up behind them, all with one person hanging out of the passenger window with some sort of weapon.  
  
One of the men had a large machine gun propped up on his shoulder and another had a strange rocket launcher thing. The third was holding two hand grenades and had the sort of look of a man who has plenty more.  
  
The man with the machine gun took aim at the Pontiac's left rear tire and fired until the cartridge had run out. Fortunately not a single bullet hit its mark; unfortunately this gave Michael a false sense of confidence, which was soon blown away. Literally. The man with the rocket launcher now took his turn – and he was a better marksman. The rocket sheared away the rubber from both Kitt's back tyres and caused the AI to slam on the accelerator, darting forward at ten times the speed even his MBS rims could take.  
  
"Whoa buddy, chill. Just slow down, OK, slow down," said Michael slamming on the brakes. The whole car shuddered and began to slide sideways; huge rooster tails of sparks shooting from the rims.  
  
Up ahead, Michael could see Jessica fiddling with on her bike before gripping the handlebars again and slowing the bike down until she was behind them. She dodged the sparks easily and stayed there, darting away from any pieces of molten metal spraying towards her.  
  
Michael looked back at her and the pursuing men before turning around and staring ahead. There was a very battered looking bridge; strong enough to take a semi probably but it didn't look like it could stand a hit from any of the weapons the men were carrying.  
  
He began to worry slightly, there was no way Kitt could drive any faster and there was no other over the gorge in the immediate vicinity. Well Jessica was probably very well prepared for this, or so he really, really hoped.  
  
As the Pontiac thudded up onto the different level of tarmac Michael glanced back again to see that two flaps had opened on the side of the bike and he could see something falling out of them.  
  
He thought about it for a couple seconds until the leading pursuer drove over one of the coin shaped objects and a chain explosion rocked the entire bridge. They were mines.  
  
He watched as the other cars tried to dodge the wreckage but failed and slowly but surely part of the bridge began to crumble into the drop below.  
  
Jessica sped past him again and made a 'can you hurry up a bit?' signal. Michael pressed down a bit harder on the gas and bounced down off the remaining part of the bridge.  
  
Five much less eventful minutes later, the bike darted down a driveway. It stood out like a sore thumb, lined with thick green forest only a few metres wide that widened out further in and was surrounded by a high wall to form a complex. They slowed as they approached a huge ornamental gate. It creaked into life and groaned open, apparently recognising Jessica's bike.  
  
Now the road was paved with red brick and the trees started to thin. Ahead Michael could see a huge mansion and a big black truck....  
  
"Kitt?" he spoke carefully, wondering how his partner was, "Is that our semi up there?"  
  
Kitt's voice sounded pained, his rims were now scrabbling against the slippy bricks unable to get any grip,  
  
"Yes Michael. Devon, Bonnie and RC are there too."  
  
Michael winced at the sound of his partner's voice; it had once more reverted to the metallic rasp it was whenever Kitt was in any pain. Or had been hacked into.  
  
Michael shook that thought away easily; he was here to meet this girl and that was that. No more. It was strange the way the men attacked them but then again, she looked like that sort of person who attracted trouble no matter how much she didn't want it.  
  
He stopped the battered Trans-Am beside the semi and climbed out; shutting the door a little too hard for Kitt's stressed out perceptors.  
  
The AI whimpered audibly and collapsed his front tyres for no apparent reason. He was just not having a good day, Kitt decided before going into recharge mode, shutting off the agony from his rear tyres.  
  
Jessica was now standing beside Devon, Bonnie and RC who had just exited the semi. She cast a meaningful glance towards the little car and then spoke,  
  
"Please come in. Anyone for drinks or something? I reckon I got about every possible drinkable liquid in this house, so please...."  
  
She gestured towards the front door that was reached by several marble steps. The huge doors swung open automatically as they approached and were about to swing shut again when Jessica blocked it. She had spotted a big limo cruising down the drive.  
  
"Excuse me one second", she muttered and ran down the stairs to where the Cadillac was stopping. With a rather ill used look on her face, she opened the door and offered her hand to the occupant.  
  
Out stepped an elderly man, about Devon's age, but leaning heavily on a walking stick. From the driver's side leapt a young man, the same age as Jessica, who looked very much like the old gentleman. He grinned at the sullen girl across the car. Jessica answered with a grimace and once the gentleman had turned away, she flipped him off and then smiled but mirthlessly.  
  
The elderly occupant reached the top of the steps and held out a hand to Devon, Michael, RC and Bonnie in turn before facing Jessica, who had appeared behind him frowning bad temperedly.  
  
"Well, introduce us my girl. And smile for once!", he said.  
  
"Right, OK" she sighed, "Guys this is Oswald. I work for him. He's English and the weirdo down there is his son Dawson. I don't like him. But I'm the only person on this planet who apparently doesn't, so feel free to make friends with him. Oswald, Dawson, this is Devon Miles, Michael Knight, Bonnie Barstow and...."  
  
"Reginald Cornelius the Third," obliged RC, "Just call me RC".  
  
"Yes, what he said. Now go in. There's no danger in there unless you're Dawson. And I'll only put something poisonous in your drinks if I don't like you, so you'll all safe," said Jessica ushering them in.  
  
As the doors slammed shut she added so only Michael could hear,  
  
"You're off to a good start, mate. If you keep it up, I may actually begin to mean that last word."  
  
"What?" whispered Michael, "Why me?"  
  
"Liked the way you were with your partner. Thought that was sweet."  
  
"You know about Kitt?"  
  
"Course I do. I'm Jessica Dalzell. It's my job." 


	4. Everyone likes Pizza

Disclaimer: I far as I can tell Glen Larson owns everything Knight Rider. I don't. But I do own Jessica. Just so you know. Oh, and now Vicky.

The inside of Jessica's mansion was incredibly spacious and airy and, as they were led into a lounge like room and ushered to sit down, Michael had an weird feeling that he was outside but inside all the same. It was rather worrying.

Everyone seated on a number of very comfy armchairs, Dawson broke the silence with a very annoying half-English half-Texan drawl,

"Yo, sweetheart. You got food in this joint?"

Jessica glared at him before answering in an incredibly stressed out tone,

"My cook's off, so any food in this house is most likely going to be microwavable, though I can make pizza if you want…. And I promised drinks, so order away!"

She stood up, grimacing at the thought of cooking anything, and listened as they rather hesitantly told her what they wanted. The girl nodded and ambled out of the room, throwing Dawson a bad-tempered look on her way past.

"Erm, Devon?" said Michael suddenly, "Why are you here anyway? Bonnie told us that you were at a conference on something, somewhere"

"Oh it was called off, there was a gas leak apparently" replied Devon simply staring out the window. He wasn't really looking forward to telling Michael the news – the plan was simple, or had been at least. Send Michael to see Jessica, she would tell him and then that was that. Or, once again, had been. Oh, this was going to be really, really, really difficult.

There was suddenly a short blast of Linkin Park over an intercom speaker, carefully positioned in a corner.

"Sorry", came Jessica's voice through the system, "I like rock music a bit too much."

It switched off with a metallic click, which was added to by her shoes echoing down the hallway on the parquet flooring. The tall girl came in carrying a tray of drinks that she quickly handed out – grinning evilly as she handed Dawson his beer.

"Enjoy, please. I'm off to cook pizza. Sorry if they're a bit iffy."

She slid out of the room as fast as she could go and, according to Michael's hearing, stopped just out of sight behind the doorframe.

There was a loud choking as Dawson took a gulp of his beer, turned a rather interesting shade of greeny red and spat it back into the glass.

"What the bloody hell did you do?" he practically shrieked after Jessica.

"As much salt as I could possibly dissolve in it", came the amused reply and the tapping of her trainers as she walked back to the kitchen.

"Now, Mr. Miles," said Oswald, sitting forward in his chair, "We have business?"

"Ah yes, well I would truthfully prefer to explain it to Michael first", was Devon's reply carefully avoiding Michael's stare,

"Maybe Miss Dalzell would appreciate some help, Michael, since she apparently dislikes cooking so much."

Michael stayed silent, still staring at his employer.

"Ask her to check on Kitt," interrupted Bonnie hurriedly, "She's a great mechanic, you know. I knew her from college. RC can go too."

"Hmm, oh yeah sure. Come on my man let's see what she's at," said RC, standing up.

"OK, but you are going to tell me what this's about," muttered Michael glaring evilly at his friends.

After several wrong turns, the two men eventually found a little handwritten sign telling them 'The kitchen is this way. Do not forget this.' Following the now carpeted hallway they did finally wander into the huge expanse of the kitchen where Jessica was sitting talking to a maid who was carefully watching the oven.

"Hi guys. Ya want something?" she asked once she noticed them.

"The bosses are havin' a business talk" replied RC cheerfully, "We got chucked out and told to ask you to check on Kitt".

The maid turned around as well and spoke,

"I shall take care of the food. Don't worry."

"Ach, there's no need to worry unless Dawson appears," replied Jessica and grabbed her coat from a chair,

"He's still out front?"

"Yeah I'd doubt he'd move," mumbled Michael, now taking an interest since his partner was involved.

"This way then."

They walked out of the building in silence and entered a huge garden. It extended right to the front of the estate it seemed, leaving no room for any cars to get through on either side, even though Michael was sure he had glimpsed a race track at the back of the house at one point.

The little Trans-Am was still collapsed at the front of the mansion, still leaning forwards on his front axle. He was very aware of the three people approaching but decided against actually letting know that he knew that. They might just be a little more careful if he was quiet.

"Hey buddy, feeling any better?" asked Michael, reaching out to pat his friend's roof then pulling his hand back remembering Kitt's new found dislike at anything touching him.

Kitt remained silent for a few seconds too long for Michael's comfort before replying in the harsh scratching voice that he had taken on,

"A bit, Michael. I think the perceptors might need fixing though."

Michael grimaced and turned to Jessica who was standing, surveying the damage from a distance. She noticed his gaze, smiled distractedly at him and nodded carefully as though adding something up in her head.

"Right…" she muttered, "I ain't even gonna bother to tell you to stay there cause I don't think you'll be moving for a bit. I gotta get some stuff from my garage, if ya want this fixed."

She stared at Michael for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Which means Vicky will see me and want to meet you. Oh bollocks this is gonna be _fun_."

Jessica turned and jogged off, muttering to herself sarcastically. Michael and RC glanced at each other worriedly.

"Vicky?" said Michael weakly, "Who's she?"

"Dunno Mike, one of the crazy lady's mates probably. Hope she ain't as mental" RC didn't sound too confident.

"It isn't very nice to judge people like that," rasped Kitt irritably, "I don't even think you've gotten to know Jessica properly and you're already think Vicky 's strange before you've even seen her."

The two men muttered sorry as quietly as possible; it was rather embarrassing to apologise to a car no matter how human it was. It was just Kitt seemed to warrant an apology continuously; it made no sense sure but the AI didn't really have a fair deal of it in the long run and you were only aware of it on a rather fuzzy subconscious level, which made you want to say sorry more. But they were human, and pride got in the way of that. Kitt would say sorry as many times as he had to, but his pride spanned elsewhere instead, mostly his physical state or how much Michael depended on him. It was really, really confusing.

They stood in silence, staring at the ground, until Jessica came back lugging a large toolbox with her.

"Right," she threw the toolbox down,

"Tell me if I do something wrong ok?"

"Wow," muttered Michael,

"You're almost as good as Bonnie."

Jessica stood up and wiped a thick layer of grease from her hands,

"Mate, I doubt it. I'm just good at fluking."

"Yeah" RC said, trying to focus on a faraway figure who was apparently dancing on the lawn,

"Is that Vic.."

"Yes, yes, yes, we know, that's Vicky. Hey wanna go see those pizzas?"

Jessica shepherded them away into her mansion, through the maze of corridors and into a huge dining room.

"Stay," she snapped and ran off.

"Ok, serious mood swings," said RC, sitting down

"At least we get food."

There were footsteps and Bonnie, Devon and the two other men appeared and seated themselves at the table.

"Le ha!"

Jessica came in wielding two pizzas,

"Bon appetite!" she grinned,

"If ya need me I'll be hiding in the kitchen. Quite possibly drinking."

She strode off again leaving the rest of them to enjoy their meal.

_Whoopsie, I spent a while getting that written. Hee hee hee. sorry_

Anyone know how to make someone un Mary-Sueish? I'm crap at writing female characters. Just so ya'll know.


	5. A surprise

_There's a disclaimer on the other chapters and only Jessica is mine._

Michael finished his meal quicker than the others, who seemed to be too busy listening to Dawson's tales of bravado to actually eat. Standing up, he scarpered, weaving his way to the kitchen. Jessica was sure enough sitting at the table, staring miserably at the bottle of Old Jack Daniels in front of her. She was talking to herself miserably as well and Michael approached as quietly as possible to hear what she was muttering about.

"… in there now yapping on about how he's so great and how he's rescued me, when it was me that's rescued his sorry arse every time, the bastard. I wish he'd just die…"

Michael coughed politely, attracting her attention.

"Holy shit," she slurred, the whiskey taking effect,

"You eat as fast as I do. Pull up a chair and help yourself to the whatever it is…erm…oh aye whiskey stuff."

Michael nodded and dragged a chair over from a bar area,

"Who were you talking about?"

"Oh Dawson," said Jessica taking another swig from the bottle,

"The little arsehole's been on my case for ever. Thinks he's God's bloody gift to women, me included, but he's so damned annoying. Well, I think so anyway, everyone else thinks he's brill."

"Oh. Say, you don't know what Devon and Oswald are talking about do you?"

"Nope. Ya know I used to know Devon. Met when I was like 15."

"What are you English or something?" Michael leant forward; the girl was too drunk to stop herself from giving away important information.

"Hell no! I'm Northern Irish. We're so much better and our accent rules and it's what gave me away isn't it?" she trailed off at the end, looking up.

"Yeah, it was American until you got drunk there and then it went slightly foreign."

That was true, she had put on a Texan accent until just there when it had turned into a harsh mixture Scottish and Irish and caused her to pronounce everything differently; for instance she pronounced Northern Ireland, 'Norn Iron'.

"Shit, sorry. Listen, I'll keep me American accent on for as long as possible so you can understand me but it might go N.I on me after a bit and enough whiskey," she grinned vaguely at him and picked another bottle of whiskey and a six-pack of Bud off the floor,

"Have somethin'. Can't have you dying from thirst on me now."

Michael dutifully pulled a beer from the pack and opened it, still staring at her as she gulped more whiskey down.

"Jessica…. Do you know why Devon and Oswald are acting so strange? It's getting annoying," said Michael sipping the frothy beer.

The girl slammed the whiskey bottle down hard on the table,

"Dunno 'bout you but Oswald normally acts like that. Nothing weird to me."

"Yes, but Devon's awful secretive. They sure as hell wanted me and RC out of that room while they were talking."

"Well, last time I checked, Oswald was retiring in June. None of the other law enforcement agencies want me since I have a nasty tendency to get my colleagues hurt."

She took another swig and added at Michael's terrified glance:

"Of course I don't mean to and it's never any fault of mine but not a single person on this god-forsaken planet believes me."

She snarled at the end of the sentence and waved the now empty Jack Daniel's bottle in front of Michael's nose.

"Y'know what? I hate everything. I hate Dawson, I hate Oswald, I hate every single person I've had to work with, I'd hate myself but I've had to much to drink to do that. I even hate this stuff and yet you can find me every night in this room with a bottle of this and a pack of cigarettes. And I hate smoking too! And y'know what's driven me to this?" She stood up and kicked the chair back, walking over to a patio window.

"Them. It's them. Oswald and his poncy bugger of a son, Dawson. They drive me mental, so I end up smoking to calm myself down and apparently Dawson's allergic to something to Diet Coke so I can't drink that at all! It isn't bloody fair!!"

Michael watched silently, all rants about the injustices of the world ended in the person slumped against a wall, normally crying.

"I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everything and I just wish I had someone who understood me. Who thinks life sucks too. Who I could talk to about everything and anything I wanted. It's just not fair…."

Jessica slid down the large window, eyes staring blankly ahead, glazed by the whiskey. Michael crunched the empty beer can and got up and crouched by her side,

"By the sounds of things, you'll be rid of them soon enough and I'll see if Kitt will listen to your sorrows, cause he's pretty damn good at listening to people complain about life." He coughed slightly; the whiskey fumes were really strong.

"I'd better stay away from naked flames, eh?" she laughed grimly and stood up wobbling.

"I'd advise it," replied Michael, "Want some water? You gotta be thirsty after that."

"Sure. Thanks."

Michael grabbed a glass from the sideboard and rinsed it before filling it with water and handing it to Jessica. She sat back down at the table and shuddered.

"Did I really go on like that?"

"Yeah," Michael sat down with a glass of water too,

"Don't worry about it. Sometimes it's good to get stuff like that off your chest"

"Huh. You're not the one who poured out their life's troubles to someone they just met earlier in the day."

"Hey, listen. People I'd only met a minute before have told me their entire life story in Technicolor."

They sniggered a bit and sat in silence watching the sky darken through the patio window. Just as Michael downed the last bit of water Dawson popped his head round the doorway.

"You two in the living room pronto," he drawled, winked at Jessica who clutched her glass tighter and disappeared again.

"Don't break the glass" said Michael pulling it out of her white-knuckled grip.

She gave him a wan smile and stood, gesturing towards the door. Michael nodded and set off towards the living room again.

Everyone else was already sitting in the room and the FLAG operatives were all looking grim, including RC who had obviously been let in on the secret.

"Please sit down Michael" said Devon nervously, trying to avoid his friend's eyes.

Michael had a sinking feeling about this; all of his friends were looking scared. Maybe they were going to replace him….? They wouldn't do that – would they?

"Michael, Miss. Dalzell is going to be joining our ranks soon," said Devon carefully looking at the wall,

"And you know that you and Kitt have proved an excellent team over the years, but we need reinforcements."

Thank god, thought Michael, I'm not fired then. But one little doubt here….

"But she'll need a partner. She can't work on her own," he said studying Devon's face.

"We're aware of that, Michael," Devon took a breath and sighed, "We're giving her Karr."

_It's been done to death, I know, but I had the theory and the people and the means of writing it so why not. And I want everyone to know I thought of this loooong before I discovered fan fiction (the deprived soul I was then)._

_That'd be great if you could help me, StormDracona. You see I cannot get female characters at all – I may be a girl but I never got the point of pink and I started fancying people waaaaaay too early. And don't worry I'm only 14. _


	6. Want to guess who's living in the garage...

Michael stared at Devon. There was no way…..

"But that's a damned death sentence!" he yelled.

"Michael, it's not anymore. We've figured out we can control Karr's behaviour by shocking him anytime he does something we don't want him to," replied Devon.

"Yeah, that's great until something goes wrong and you can't stop him anymore!" snapped Michael, "You can't possibly think anyone would possibly want to be partnered with a…a…. a monster like Karr! I doubt you've even asked her."

Jessica looked mildly surprised and slid further down in her seat.

"Fine!" snarled Devon his temper close to breaking point, "Miss Dalzell, do you wish to be partnered with Karr?"

"Well, I don't even know what he's like but as long as not like Dawson then yeah."

Dawson glared at her evilly and stood up.

"I agree with Mike! This Karr might hurt her or kill her or somethin'"

"Then let him!" hissed Jessica standing up too, "It'll be a bloody sight better than having to live with you people."

She advanced slowly, until she was inches from his face and reached up to stroke his cheek. Then she slapped him. It was a hard hit that knocked him sideways onto the floor cursing.

"Erm… Miss. Dalzell do you wish to know what Karr's like?" ventured Devon, "Because we locked him in one of your garage blocks. So…"

"You were in my gara…. Oh bugger it sure, whatever," Jessica met Michael's murderous glare with one of her own and gestured for Devon to lead the way.

"Bonnie, if you would please?"

They were all standing on the edge of a massive racetrack and airstrip, watching as a very nervous Bonnie hit the switch for one garage door. It creaked open and there was a warning hiss from inside as powerful turbines come to life. The easily recognized rumble of the engine followed and one black over silver Pontiac Trans-Am with a sinister yellow scanner slid out.

Michael was watching Jessica who was looking curiously at the car as it drove over reluctantly.

"Karr, this is Miss. Dalzell. If everything goes right she will be your new partner," Devon glanced from car to girl. Both looked obviously unimpressed.

"Her?" Karr's gritty "I-can-charm-the-birds-out-of-the-trees" voice sounded tired.

"Him?" sneered Jessica, walking forward to stand inches in front of the Pontiac's nose, "Listen, mate, if we've gotta work together no name-calling and no playing silly buggers, got it?"

"Like I get a choice!" barked Karr angrily, "How come I have to do everything they say? How come Kitt doesn't?"

"Kitt does, Karr, but he does so by choice," replied Jessica calmly, "How about you get this into your CPU? Do what I say as far as possible and don't seriously hurt or kill anyone and you'll have the same free reign of your life that Kitt does. And it won't get you shut down or destroyed."

"Well, make them turn the damned controller off at least," muttered Karr.

"No way!" yelled Michael, "Don't trust him, Jessica, he'll kill you!"

"Michael," sighed Jessica spinning on her heel, "In all due respect – shut up."

Michael fell silent as she ambled back to Devon and Bonnie and plucked the controller out of the technician's hand with considerable ease.

"Hey, wait!" yelped Bonnie trying to snatch it back.

The other girl shot her back a nasty look and dropped the controller, smashing it under her foot.

"There!" Jessica grinned and stepped back in front of the Pontiac.

"Now mate, this means you owe me."

Karr revved his engine dangerously but Jessica didn't move. He tried spinning his tyres but she remained standing in front of him, seemingly spaced out. Finally he removed the hand-brake and shot forward.

Dawson, obviously thinking it for the best, tackled Jessica, throwing her across the tarmac and landing on top of her.

"Hey, sweetheart!" he mumbled. She glared back at him, anger radiating from her.

"Get off Dawson," she said quietly. Dawson stood up and grabbed her by the wrist,

"Now, sweet cakes you owe me!"

"Get off," repeated Jessica, staring at the trembling black over silver Pontiac over Dawson' shoulder.

"Not 'til I get a thank you snog."

Jessica made to protest again but was cut off.

"You heard the lady, let her go."

It was Karr. He had turned round and seemed to be aiming for Dawson, even as he sat still.

"Aye, that's right sonny boy. You just listen to the nice gentleman now," laughed Jessica, decking Dawson with her free hand and turned back to Karr.

"Now what'd I say about playing silly buggers?"

"You were playing it too!" protested the AI rolling over to her,

"Hey, Miss. Dalzell…"

"Jessica."

"Whatever. I'm sorry about charging you. Can we still be partners? I think I might like you."

"Yeah sure, babe. It's a deal".

Jessica waltzed back to the FLAG team, grinning triumphantly,

"So.... Where'd I sign up?"

_And another chappie is finished and guess what! We have another Karr and other person team. Actually some of the other stories that go like this are extremely good but I must maintain that I thought this story up the first time I ever saw an episode with Karr in it and back then I could only just figure out how to play a game of cards on the computer, let alone even go near the Internet symbol thing. _


	7. A new morning

Michael opened heavy eyelids and glanced around. Ah, yes – his current home, a small motel on the edge of a tiny western town. Well home was stretching it a bit, he intended to be out of there in at least an hour. Just enough time for a hot shower and a bit of breakfast in one of the joints in town.

He had barely stepped out of the shower and got dressed when the com-link bleeped. Sighing he picked it up and strapped it on his wrist before answering.

"Yeah, what is it Kitt?"

"Devon's calling, he has another case. He says to find Jessica and we can use it to show them the ropes."

"Oh….."

Michael swore inwardly. This whole Karr business had him on edge, and everyone else it would seem. Strangely enough, Kitt was one of the only two who were rather calm about the situation. He seemed to have accepted Karr as an ally pretty quickly, and Karr had done the same.

'Happy families I suppose' he thought.

Five minutes later he trudged out of the motel and yanked open the trunk. Kitt half shrieked at the sudden contact and fired the engine. Michael jumped slightly and muttered sorry quietly before shutting the trunk as gently as possible. Kitt swung the driver's door open for his partner and shut it when Michael was inside.

'So Bonnie didn't fix the perceptors' he thought as they pulled out of the park.

"Where are Jessica and Karr?" he asked, revving the Pontiac's engine out of habit at a stoplight.

"If you would care to use the rear-view mirror once in a while Michael, you would have seen them perform an incredibly illegal u-turn and stop half a metre behind us" replied Kitt, snickering quietly as his partner jumped.

Looking around, sure enough there was a black and silver Trans-Am with a young woman behind the wheel. She grinned and waved manically until the windows blacked out. Slowly they cleared again to reveal the woman talking to the dashboard in an irritated manner. The scanner of the front of the car lit up once and faded again as though embarrassed.

"Do you want me to call them, Michael?" asked Kitt, taking the controls from his partner.

"And beating your head against my steering wheel is more likely to give us both headaches than anything else."

Michael muttered something incomprehensible and shrugged.

"I'll take that as a yes then" sighed Kitt, sometimes he really didn't see the point in being able to talk if his partner was going to reply like that.

The line gave its customary bleep and the screen came on, giving Michael a front seat to a rather one-sided argument.

"…..I really don't appreciate you waking up at half bloody three in the morning either, we made good time anyway and we're early too. I'm never early!"

"Maybe you should start then."

"Nooo way, boyo. If you're early people might ask you to do extra stuff or volunteer you for something. Believe me on this, OK?"

"Really."

"And another thing, I do not need you tapping into the heating computer thing and making the water freezing in the middle of me having a shower."

"You needed to hurry up, and as far as I can tell your hair is perfectly clean."

"Says you. I hadn't put any conditioner on it and my hair tangles really bad if I don't use conditioner and…… the monitor's on ain't it?"

"Affirmative."

"So I have been yarping on like that, and they've been listening?"

"Yes, most definitely."

"Well thanks for telling me!"

"You are welcome."

"Oh ye various gods!"

Jessica flashed an embarrassed smile at the link and continued,

"Sorry about that…"

Michael tried to raise an eyebrow but gave up and sat back in his seat,

"So what's Devon got for us this time?"

Jessica picked up a bunch of papers from the passenger seat and ruffled through them for a second.

"I got Karr to write it down and print it out so I wouldn't forget. Unfortunately he took it a bit too literally and wrote the entire conversation with Devon out. Including the bits where Bonnie barged in," she explained and pulled one sheet out of the pile.

"Yeah this is it. Apparently you have already met this bloke. 'Acid' John Byroc or something. You guys had a little encounter with him that probably isn't so little judging by your expression and he got locked away for a bit, which, still according to your expression wasn't half as long as it should have been."

"Yeah, we had a case involving him at one point. He was a big person in the chemical disposal industry, until we drew the fact he wasn't storing the chemical properly and allowing it to leach into the ground," Michael made a face. "It wasn't nice, I can tell you that."

"You weren't the one who nearly got dissolved by those chemicals," muttered Kitt under the hiss of the turbines. Michael either didn't hear or ignored the snappy statement, but Jessica winced and bit at her lip. Karr's reaction didn't seem to be relevant at all. He revved his engine and shunted the other Trans-Am forward.

At once the other three yelled "What the hell'd you do that for?" only with more cursing in some cases than others.

"You have been sitting at the light for over three minutes now, and there is a quite extensive queue of people sitting behind us now. Since you're not very likely to pay any attention to me, I felt I should take more immediate action," Karr replied smoothly, not missing a beat.

"There're three" said Jessica dully.

"Three what?"

"Three cars. _Three_ cars? _An extensive queue of people_? You do that to your brother when you very well know he's in agony, just because of _three people_?"

Karr didn't say anything at first until Jessica began to open her mouth again.

"All right! I'm…." he paused until she glared at him again, "I'm sorry, Kitt. There - happy now?"

"No, because that was addressed more to me than Kitt but it'll have to do", said Jessica pulling her car in beside Michael's in a parking lot. "Come on, Michael, we can go and get some breakfast or something and I'll tell you about what's going on."

Michael didn't complain – he was starving after all. They wandered silently along the street for a bit and stopped outside a small café.

"Shall we?" said Michael, holding the door open.

"Oh my, what a gentleman!" replied Jessica, pretending to curtsey and walking inside.

They chose a booth and ordered before Jessica continued.

"Right. As I was going to say. Mr. Byroc got out early on good behaviour as far as we can tell, but it's just as likely his new business partner bribed the prison management."

Michael glanced up from his newly arrived steaming cup of coffee and fry.

"New business partner?"

"Yep," Jessica sipped her orange juice and nibbled at a slice of toast, turning slightly green as Michael shovelled the greasy food into his mouth. "A Mr. Stephen Cochrane. Huge oil baron person. Tonnes of the stuff. But it's mined or drilled for or whatever on illegal ground or something, so no one will buy it. He's figured out that if he smuggles the oil into other shipments no one would be any wiser. So, he's given Byroc the legal part of his oil fields and adds his illegal oil in with it before it gets to the refinery. All it does to Byroc is making him look like he's turned over a new page."

"How's the ground he's drilling for oil on illegal?"

"Part's nature reserve, part's Native American heritage ground. If we prove he's drilling there, he goes down and you get to see Byroc in jail yet again."

"Yeah, but how come no one's proved Cochrane's drilling there yet if they have the evidence to say what he's doing?"

Jessica looked shifty for a moment,

"See the problem is it's only suspicion. There have been oil pumps and towers appearing in these sites for ages but they haven't been traced to anyone yet. And there's been rumours swarming around Cochrane for ages but nothing's been proved. But now, one of his employees has come to the Foundation to say that it's Cochrane drilling there after all. But we have to get the hard proof because this guy's family used to own the land Cochrane's meant to have drilled on, and just recently got fired."

"Ah right," said Michael, "Well sure we can figure something out. Where does this guy live?"

_Sorry that took so long and sorry if the plot's a bit shaky. Thank you to Storm Dracona - it's your fault I've kept on going._


	8. Someone's in denial

It turned out not to be a pleasant trip at all. Mr. Cochrane had chosen an extensive site on which to build his multi-million dollar home, very near the coast. This meant the only way in was a cliff top road.

"Please."

"No."

"Come on, for me?"

"_No"_

"Please? Ach, don't act like this. Listen I'll do whatever you want if you just drive down it a little bit."

"NO!"

"I'll drive on the wrong side of the road so you can stay as far away from the cliff as possible."

"….. There's a bridge there too."

"Oh ye gods. _Please!_"

"Jessica, I refuse to go anywhere near that road."

"Fine. Be that way. I shall just walk the whole bloody way shall I? When I have a perfectly operable car that I can't drive because the AI inside it's too big a wuss to go near a cliff."

"I am not a wuss. It is just the memories cliffs bring back are not pleasant."

"I'm pretty damn sure that the memories a gun brings Michael aren't that nice; or the memories a chemical tanker, any sort of missile or 18-wheelers bring Kitt aren't either. And I know that I can't bear to even think about memories the surname 'Knight' brings back, but Michael's happy enough around guns, Kitt is fine around any of those things and, well, technically, if you had a surname it would be Knight….. If we can stick it, you can too."

Michael sighed, Jessica was not getting anywhere.

"Come on, Jess, you can come with me and Kitt."

The girl shrugged, climbed out of her Trans-Am and slammed the door viciously.

"Just stay there, OK?" she snapped. No response. Aha, Michael thought, Karr has mastered the delicate art of the guilt trip.

Jessica's expression softened and she rolled her eyes.

"All right. Sorry. Happy? I'm sorry. I'll do something to make up for it later."

She stalked over to Kitt and gently pulled the door open. Kitt shut it behind her, and sped off down the road. Behind them, Karr slid off in a different direction.

Five minutes later, the black Trans-Am drew to a halt on a perfectly spread out gravel driveway, surrounded by perfectly manicured green lawns. And for some strange reason there was already a Trans-Am sitting there.

"Either we stepped into a time-loop or there was a back-road", Jessica remarked casually as they got out.

"Back-road" replied Karr. Even Michael sniggered at that and loped up to the door.

A middle aged man dragged it open on the fifth ring and glared at them suspiciously.

"We don't want any."

"We're not selling anything, Mr. Cochrane. We just need to ask you a few questions," said Michael. Jessica stopped the door with one of her feet as Cochrane tried to slam it closed.

"I don't have to answer any of them!" he spat back, tugging helplessly at the door. Jessica and Michael exchanged glances. She flicked her head towards Cochrane and he nodded. It couldn't hurt for her to have a go at questioning him.

"All right, that's fine by me," Jessica replied, "We're from the Foundation for Law and Government and we…"

"I'm not drilling for oil on that patch of land! Now go away!"

"… I didn't say anything about oil."

"Well….. Everyone's been asking that lately." Cochrane went red and re-opened the door. As he swung it shut, Jessica took her foot away and he smacked himself up the face with the door. The girl sighed, shrugged and wandered down the steps.

"Well that was productive," she said, rapping her fingers against Karr's roof.

"I didn't really expect it to go well anyway," said Michael, "He is very jumpy about the oil though, and I didn't think there were any articles on it in the papers." He paused and slid into the driver's seat.

"Kitt, could you check all the news stories for the past couple weeks. Check if Cochrane's in any of them."

"You don't think that anyone has asked him anything?" growled Karr over the speaker system. The monitor switched on, showing Jessica with an exasperated look on her face. She looked down at the screen and mouthed something that looked like 'You got the brains, I got the brawn', grinned and started the engine.

"I did see that you know," hissed Karr bad temperedly.

"Chill mate. It was a friendly insult."

"Oh" Karr didn't know that there was such a thing.

"What would have looked like if it wasn't friendly?"

"Well, I would have said it for a start, and there would be more cussing and offensive gestures and I would have put a bit more venom into my voice."

Michael and Kitt listened in silence as they descended into a complex conversation about how the tone of someone's voice could convey an emotion and the figures of speech used to describe them.

"Michael? You were right. Cochrane hasn't even had a mention for 9 months in any news anywhere," said Kitt quietly.

"I knew it." Michael tapped the steering wheel. "After those two shut up we'll find the guy who informed us."

"But they're talking very calmly. You could tell them we're going now."

"Yeah, but look at which road we just drove down" Michael pulled up at a stop sign.

"Oh right"

Jessica rubbed the bridge of her nose,

"I give up. I'll explain later, OK? And by the way, look behind you."

Karr stopped in the middle of the road as soon as he did.

"You….. That…….. The cliff…." Karr spluttered in embarrassment, and came up with the only reasonable reply he could think off.

"I HATE YOU!"

Which, of course, he said in the friendliest way possible.

At least by his standards anyway.

_Sorry for the really massive delay. My bad. I shall now blame it on my English teacher giving us all the homework we needed to do for this term as early as possible so we got it over with. And I'll blame my HE teacher too, cause she made us do that food poisoning report. Apart from that, they're very nice people._

_Oh, and since I finished this chappie on the 17th March – Happy St Paddy's Day!_


	9. Whining is fun!

Silvia Rea was not having the time of her life at all. Her boyfriend had overheard her complaining to a friend about her unemployment and had wrangled a job out of his boss. So now she was stuck as a secretary to a fat, evil-tempered oil driller. For peanuts, it had to be said.

The job did have one upside though. That wasn't really very much of an upside. She could hear everything he did or said through the paper thin walls of the mobile trailer they worked in. One conversation in particular had disturbed her greatly.

She had been idly playing card games on the shaky old computer she was expected to use when the foreman slammed the door back. A tall, balding man in a crisp suit strode in, nodded curtly to her and barged straight into the office.

"Byroc!" she heard his voice snap, "You fired someone recently, yes?"

"Yeah, man called Herald Johnson?" came the surly voice of her boss.

"Indeed. Well, he has gone to the Foundation for Law and Government, Byroc. He knew about the illegal oil."

"The Foundation for Law and Government?" Byroc sounded scared.

"Yes, I need Mr. Johnson taken care of. I have taken the liberty of bribing a Foundation member. They have told me that FLAG's operative teams are going to interview him this afternoon."

"They mightn't believe him. His family owned the land that you…"

There was a touchy cough.

"That you aren't drilling on at all, but some other bastard is and they think it's you."

"Not good at all, Byroc."

"Sorry, sir. Anyway, he did just get fired. They might think he's just out for petty revenge."

"I don't care, Byroc! You have enough contacts. Get someone to kill Johnson now!"

With that the business man stormed out, not even glancing at Silvia.

She was now rethinking what she had heard. Admittedly she wasn't one of the sharpest tools in the shed, but she did have a great sense of morals.

They were going to kill someone.

She was the only one who knew.

And Byroc couldn't have had him murdered yet, because he would have to call someone, and Silvia would hear the conversation.

That someone had just been fired.

His details would be on the computer.

She could call these FLAG people and tell them.

Right….

Silvia pushed the door open.

"Sir, can I have the day off?"….

"I can't believe you made me do that."

"Karr…."

"That was just cruel."

"Karr."

"I mean you could have gone the other way."

"Karr!"

"It was only half a mile longer."

"KARR!"

"Yes?"

"Stop whining for five minutes and show me where we're going, please!"

Karr growled slightly and put the map up. He subconsciously set his timer as well. Five minutes would undoubtedly give him more to complain about.

Gradually he noticed something missing. He couldn't detect his twin Trans-Am anywhere nearby.

"Where are Kitt and Michael?" he asked.

"They left ten minutes ago. You were too busy bickering to notice."

"Why'd they go?"

Jessica frowned for a second.

"D'you know, I can't actually remember. Damn my short term memory. Something about Devon and a phone call I think."

Karr made another note about his partner; she was insane and forgetful. What a great mix indeed. Hmm, still three minutes left until he could piss her off again.

"...Karr, what are you thinking?" Jessica asked after a moment of silence, for some reason having a feeling Karr was plotting.

"Nothing." One minute, oh this was going to be good.

"You are a horrible liar ya know." Bingo.

"I STILL can't believe you did that though!" Jessica groaned as Karr showed her the 5 minute timer at zero on his screen before she rubbed a hand on her face.

"Ooh this is going to be a long drive." she muttered, which was drowned out by Karr's incessant whining.

"What? Why?" came the growled response, as Byroc rubbed his face thinking.

"Never mind, just go." He snapped before Silvia could respond. Before he could blink she was out of his office grabbing her stuff and getting out of there. She had things to do.

She ran out at full pelt and chucked all her stuff into her car, sprang in herself and screeched off, nearly running over the foreman in the process.

After tearing down the road for ten minutes, she pulled into an old petrol station and ran to the phone booth outside.

The operator answered brightly,

"Can I help you?"

"Erm, yes, can I get a call through to the Foundation for Law and Government please?"

"Of course, just hold on a minute."

Silvia waited what seemed like an age, before a male English voice spoke,

"Hello, this is the Foundation for Law and Government, can I help you?"

"Erm, yeah, I'm Silvia Rea. I wanted to tell you that a guy called Herald Johnson is going to be killed by someone."

She immediately regretted how casual it sounded.

"What? Well, thank you very much for that information, madam. We appreciate your help greatly."

There was a click and the line went dead. Silvia put the phone back and sighed. What if she was too late? Herald could be dead by now. She could only hope not.

Back at the Foundation, Devon was pacing like a caged animal, Bonnie desperately trying to calm him down.

"Listen, Devon, it could be a hoax for all you know. And Jessica and Karr are already heading to his house."

"Yes, but..." Devon paused and wiped his forehead, "I've already sent Michael and Kitt off on that other lead we got, and they haven't reported back. And if it is true, Jessica could very well come across a mercenary on her first case with us. Or even worse, a corpse."

"She worked in law enforcement before Devon, surely she has seen one," said Bonnie with the assured air of someone who's job wasn't going to lead them anywhere a dead body.

"Oswald promised me she hadn't and anyway… Bonnie, she was a mercenary before, working for the government. She didn't kill anyone up close and personal, they used her to poison people they didn't like, but she was on the wrong side of the law. Others may know her. It could put us and her at a liability."

Devon threw his hands up in despair.

"Call Karr then," said RC, who had been listening silently to the conversation until now, "You've seen the way he follows her around. He'd do anything for the woman."

The other two set him with sceptical looks.

"No, really," he continued, "He's obviously figured common sense out as well as logic. He acts nice to this girl, protects her with everything he's got, and in return no one will shut him down and if he gets hurt helping us, then we'll help him out."

"Good...point, Reginald, very good point," said Devon sitting down in his chair and dialling the number.

"Karr? Don't patch this through to Jessica."

"Ok…"

The AI sounded nervous, he didn't have his partner's cynicism or sarcastic remarks to hide behind anymore.

"We've received a call, Karr, saying that the man you're going to visit is going to be killed. I'm worried that Jessica might get caught in the crossfire and get hurt, or maybe see the body."

"Right." Why's he telling me this? She's not easily disturbed. She'd be fine.

"Scan the area around Mr. Johnson's house before you let her out. If there's any sign of a disturbance don't let her out, understood?"

"Affirmative." I'd let her out anyway. She'd cope.

"Thank you, Karr, I appreciate it."

"It's nothing." Since I'm not going to do it anyway.

The silver and black Trans-Am stopped outside a modest looking apartment block. Karr did the preliminary scans and found….

One well armed man creeping towards Herald's rooms.

"Jessica, there is a man carrying a gun, heading for our informant's flat," he barked.

"Thanks mate," she snapped to attention and sprang out of the car and ran for the building. Herald's was only on the second, she could get there in time if she tried.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she skidded onto the second floor corridor, just in time to see the man charging through the door.

Vainly wishing she had a gun, she sprang to and caught him by a foot. He turned, cocked the pistol and two bullets lodged themselves very firmly in her shoulder. Trying to ignore the pain, she grabbed the nearest thing, which turned out to be a rather heavy door stop, and smashed it into the side of his head. This turned out to be quite effective and the man slumped out cold.

A petrified looking young man stuck his head out from a closet.

"Erm.. Can I get you anything?" he quavered.

"An ambulance would be preferable," Jessica muttered darkly, before she slid to the ground too.

Voila! Thank you Storm, if you hadn't written that middle bit, I couldn't have updated yet. Go you, go you!


	10. Let's be difficult!

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

"Eck…" groaned Michael rubbing at the top of his head, "Bloody false leads, they're death traps."

"You said it," emanated Kitt's distinct voice from the com-link.

"Ow..." Michael tried to get a fix on his situation. He had gone off to investigate another possible lead and had ended up being battered over the head. And Kitt. What had happened to Kitt?

"Buddy?" muttered Michael into the watch.

"Yes Michael?"

"What happened to you?"

"Erm..." Kitt paused and cleared his virtual throat, "I was coming to help you and I had to dodge to avoid some gun fire and drove in some wet concrete. It's messed up some of my systems and trying to get out's made it worse and gummed up my communications. I'm only a few metres to the left by the way."

"Oh," Michael rolled onto his side and saw the once black Trans-Am very firmly stuck up to his fender in drying concrete. Apparently in his attempts to get out, Kitt had managed to spray the stuff over his roof and hood. There was grey masking half of the scanner as well.

"You do realise this is gonna take me ages to clean, don't you?" said Michael, dragging himself to his feet and stumbling across to his partner.

"Watch the concrete Michael," snapped Kitt as the tall man nearly submerged one foot in it.

"Thanks buddy."

Michael leant against a scaffolding pole and looked around again. They were in a large warehouse that had obviously been used to hold something rather explosive, judging by the massive scorch marks along the walls. Who ever had set the trap up had obviously known their weaknesses. There were lead plates all along the walls and there was still a cement mixer and a pair of shovels sitting in a corner.

"Can you get through to anyone?" sighed Michael, looking down at his stranded partner.

"I might be able to get a message through to Karr" said Kitt thoughtfully, "But it will take a while."

"Well, try at least. I'm not trekking across that damn desert on my own," replied Michael, sinking to the floor again. He might as well catch up on his sleep.

Elsewhere Karr was sitting very unhappily in a hospital car-park. He had already been told off by Devon, then Bonnie and then RCIII. He was dreading was Jessica would say to him when she came out.

According to the doctors she was extremely lucky. The bullets hadn't done much damage to the muscles or anything else. She would just have to wear her arm in a sling for a while.

Jessica had sat silently while the doctor told her that and had said very little when he was bandaging her arm. She had just stared at the floor and then out the window. Karr had been monitoring her heartbeat when she did that. It had spiked upward as if she had been reminded of something that either frightened or annoyed her. He had a nasty feeling it was about him.

Now she was walking across the car-park in a vague way. The problem was that the way she was wandering wasn't the way that Karr was parked.

"What the…?" he muttered to himself before starting his engine and driving after her.

"Jess, where're you going?" he called out.

"For a walk," was the short reply.

'Oh, crap' thought Karr, 'She's really pissed at me.'

Jessica paused at the corner and looked down at the Trans-Am that was following her closely.

"I thought I could take care of myself?" she snarled rather nastily.

She stalked on a couple feet and stopped, turning around. Karr wasn't following her anymore; he had parked where she had snarled at him, scanner slowly tracking as though weighed down with guilt.

"Oh, all right!" she grumbled, walking back and getting in, "Back to FLAG. You drive; I'm slightly inconvenienced at this point."

She raised her uninjured arm as Karr began to speak,

"And no apologizing, please? I just wanna curl up and sleep."

Karr had plotted the longest and least bumpy road back to FLAG. He needed time to think and he didn't want to wake Jessica up from a rather uncomfortable looking slumber.

There was a light chime that Karr quickly silenced. He answered the call to find it was only a message from a rather worried sounding Kitt. But then again Kitt always sounded worried to him – Karr was positive that if Kitt was human he would constantly have an anxious frown on his face.

"Erm, Karr, Michael and I are in a bit of trouble. You couldn't come and help – please? I'll send the co-ordinates in a minute; I'm having problems with my communications systems. You'll find out why if you come to help."

The message cut off, and, seconds later, the co-ordinates did arrive. Karr now faced the unpleasant task of waking Jessica up.

"Jessica," he tried, "Jessica?"

The woman merely snorted and kicked the steering wheel gently.

After five minutes of trying to wake her up, he gave up and set a course to where Kitt was. He would let the other two take the blame when she woke else where than the Foundation.

In the abandoned warehouse, three hours later, Kitt was playing a solitaire game while trying not to use his computing capabilities at all. It was turning out to be very difficult, and after a while he simply let his logic circuits take over and finished the game in less than ten seconds.

Michael was still curled up, snoring loudly. Kitt didn't understand how his partner could sleep through everything. But then again Kitt didn't technically sleep so he really couldn't tell. He still wondered though. Wondering about stuff would give himself something to do for more than five minutes. He sometimes created paradoxes in his CPU just to have something to do on really long road trips. Michael had remarked several times that it was probably just a 'smart-ass AI thing'. He had said that one day when he was obviously irritated with his partner though. Kitt had conveniently forgotten (a.k.a. deleted the memory) what Michael had been annoyed about.

"Kitt?"

The AI flashed his scanner on and spotted Karr sitting in the doorway.

"Karr! I'm afraid Michael's gone to sleep. I can't wake him up because he'll just tell me to shut up and go back to sleep again."

"That's ok. Jessica had… an accident, I suppose… and she's gone to sleep as well. We can just sit here until one of them wakes up."

"All right."

There was an awkward pause then Kitt piped up again,

"I don't suppose you'd fancy a game of chess?"

_Sorry, I've spent months updating. At least it's not as bad as the other story I have on my other account… I only just updated it there now and I'd left it for about six months… sigh I'm stupid and evil._


End file.
